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viewing 1 To 9 of 9 items
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KEL 015LP
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First LP from this NYC trio composed of Jason Meagher (NNCK, Coach Fingers), Pat Murano (NNCK, Decimus, Key Of Shame), and Dave Shuford (NNCK, Rhyton). An improvised ritual of metal percussion and electronic modulation recorded at Black Dirt Studio in 2012. As in previous NNCK and Decimus works, there's a lot of buzzing drones and flickering electronics, just less haunting and more tripping. Limited to 300 copies.
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KEL 013LP
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"Simply put, Malkuth are a Leviathan; rising from the West, to lay waste to the Eastern lands -- fierce and spiteful, having been awakened from centuries of contemplative slumber. In comparison to their two full-lengths on Hospital Productions, Hathir Sakta (and its accompanying disc on Prison Tatt Records, Tamahprabha, the set originally intended as one double LP) finds Malkuth in relative or even greater form, this material having been simmered to perfection, its ferocity seasoned to epic proportion -- and as always, guitar-guitar-drums -- no bass to tether it, 'define' it or in any way hem it in. Szwed and Murano's guitars tentacle one another -- dozens of possessing riffs, split in all the right places by ice shards of trebly melody -- angular, baroque and dissonant, as if Morton Feldman were somehow meeting black metal halfway; his studied, contemplative maturity juiced up on a gift-cask of USBM-tinged Kaddish wine and energy drinks, and Mr. Murano's experimental projects (Decimus, K-Salvatore, Key Of Shame, et al.), having evolved similarly during the interval, inform these Malkuth tracks in the most apropos and satisfying of ways. Matt Heyner's roiling drum kit ties it all up in twine, complementing Murano's growl with snare-hits and tom workouts like small-arms fire. Malkuth are of a rare breed within the pantheon of black metal, in that their material is both energizing (similar to the way of all bands who chose to ride the Darkthrone/Abruptum artery from the primordial Scandinavian explosion) and meditative/brooding, offering 'head' and 'hard' in equivalent doses. After spending many hours of deep listening to their material, as well as hosting them on my WFMU radio program during the bridge between their Hospital releases and these newer ones, I can say with surety that this LP and its companion are indeed Malkuth's finest hour, such that 'well worth the wait' becomes a descriptive understatement. Hathir Sakta requires your immersion, for the listeners' full envelopment to be achieved; that said, you'll undoubtedly pick up on the incredible energy of these recordings even if only half-listening, and when you're ready, the awe-inspiring, novelistic quality of Hathir Sakta will reveal itself fully and enrapture the listener in its cavernous terror and ecstasy." --Wm. M. Berger, host of WFMU's My Castle of Quiet; proprietor, Prison Tatt Records. The third Malkuth LP, recorded in the band's rehearsal space in 2010. Pat Murano on guitar and vocals, Matt Szwed on guitar, and Matt Hayner on drums.
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KEL 016LP
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Raajmahal's second LP. Recorded in the winter of 2012/2013 in Red Hook, Brooklyn. Carla Baker (Flower Orgy, Baba Yaga) -- guitar, harmonium, and vocals; Pat Murano (Decimus, NNCK, Malkuth, etc.) -- guitar/synth; with vocal harmony assistance by Amanda Bristow (Baba Yaga) and flute by Jen Storch. Here are a few thought-experiments to consider while listening to the newest LP on Kelippah Records by the band Raajmahal: You are a tourist in an exotic and faraway land where you have attended a daily religious ceremony that includes a long section of chanting. You've been settled into a corner of the room where the sound of the multitude of voices is reflecting and fluttering around your head. Deep into the ceremony, and unbeknownst to the other people attending, you have a major stroke. In the minutes before you lose consciousness, your brain begins to process the sounds in the room differently. The voices are now distant, haunting, some footfalls echo like giant drums, and the rushing in your ears almost sounds like a strange guitar. Another possibility: you have spent the evening reveling with a good friend, imbibing in all manner of illicit elixirs. As the shades of evening's blue shift to the deep purples of late night, your friend has some sort of episode. Whether brought on by the recent intake or stemming from natural causes is not relevant. It is obvious that a doctor is needed, and quickly. You are fumbling with your mobile phone, trying to make heads or tails of all the strange symbols which you are sure are situated where the numerals used to be on the keypad. A small crowd has formed around you seeming from thin air and before you can process what the group is saying, an ambulance has arrived. The lights and your generally tweaked physiology are disorientating, but somehow you manage to find you way into the back of the vehicle with your friend. As you speed away a second wave of induced euphoria overtakes you, blending dangerously with your residual dread and confusion of the last few minutes. You begin to giggle, perhaps inappropriately, and are struck by how strange the music coming from the radio in the front of the vehicle sounds, blending with the sirens from outside the windows. The music is foggy, methodically floating along, but it seems to be happening too slow, like a spooling-out cassette. Next to you one of the EMTs begins to sing along but you cannot make out any words, just a haunting melody. Lastly: You are a desk-bound city worker who has not spent much time outdoors since your childhood. You have decided on a beautiful spring weekend to take a hike to the top of a mountain located in a nearby rural area accessible towards the end of the local commuter rail line. You pack your necessary provisions and get an early start on a golden, clear morning. The day is spent traversing a steep path through the dense, tree-covered hillside. You are surprised to find that no other trekkers abound on this day, and for this you are quietly happy. Slowly you leave the stifling crush of your daily city life behind and as you get higher and higher, your mind becomes clearer and more open. Lungs burning, back soaked with sweat, you finally reach the pinnacle of the trail and find a stunning perch high above the far valley. You sit there in the late afternoon sun, in what seems like perfect silence. Slowly you realize that it is not quiet at all, that there are sounds all around you. At first they are distinct, but the longer you sit and the less you focus, they begin to meld into something different. The rustling of the leaves in the trees, the insects' whine, the calls of the birds, even your own rhythmic pulse, all begin to congeal into something that you can only describe as musical. A gust of wind picks up, racing through the rocky depths below you, and you swear to yourself, as there is no one else around, that it sounds just like an ethereal voice, singing a sweet, yet melancholy melody above nature's song. Silk screened by Phil Franklin. Limited to 300 copies.
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KEL 014LP
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Tom Carter and Pat Murano (Decimus, No Neck Blues Band, etc.) first began to play together at the behest of Jason Meagher, to be recorded as part of his Natch series. These recordings were captured during those same sessions on March 17, 2012 up at Black Dirt Studios. Here's what Jason had to say about the session: "We could talk about an improviser's ability to listen to the other players around them and how important it is to crossing the line between jamming and spontaneous composition. But instead, we should dwell for 49 minutes on the idea of a person being at the top of their game. It is not an expression used in music very much, but it applies here. A musician can have many peaks at various points in their relationship to sound. At these moments, they are masters, wizards, conjuring other worlds almost immediately. This session documents a moment when two such musicians crossed paths." Limited to 300 copies.
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KEL 012LP
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"In an era where compositional abstract music has been co-opted by studious arrangers obsessed with process, where forbears have been kidnapped by pop stars, and where the noiseniks have all turned to techno beats, this split LP by Decimus (Pat Murano) and Hobo Sonn (Ian Murphy) presents a triumphant return to the frayed and dangerous inner world of outsider sound exploration and reproduction. Both artists have crafted individual soundscapes that reek of the cinematic, while eschewing both pastiche and canonized musical reference points to create a unique inverted cosmos. Presented over two sides of vinyl each suite of music almost perfectly mirrors the other. Where Deciumus uses synthetic devices to create warped, nightmarish representations of organic, everyday sounds (creaky floorboards, a heartbeat, rats squeaking, camera shutters clicking, a taunting feral animal cry), Hobo Sonn places field recordings of actual sounds (foot falls, birds, insects, automobiles) in a dark and drifting world that feels very much like a waking bad dream. If the Decimus side feels like a descent into the end of ones days, then perhaps Hobo Sonn's side is the reality we face once we cross over. Or perhaps it is the other way around. There is not a payoff to be found within these vibrating grooves, instead you are invited from the opening seconds of each side to be a part of a parallel world, one that perhaps lives right around the next darkened corner, or at the periphery of your eyesight. Like real life, the peaks happen subtly, when you are not paying attention, and leave you in a different place than you were when you started. Another deeply personal release from the Kelippah label. Limited to 300 LPs. Jackets silk-screened by Phil Franklin and Christine Shields at Bright Spot Ink."
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KEL 011LP
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"Like a true psychedelic experience, one that if you've ever had, you'll know what we mean, it presents you with a fixed length window that opens into another possible perspective of our lumbering existence. Imagine 500 milligrams administered via an eye dropper filled with mercury and you're on your way. Born of a correspondence between two fellows entrenched in parallel explorations of the unknowable and imagined, there's a mystery to the source of the sounds contained in these grooves; a mystery that reaches the top of chain, as the players involved have never met, did not discuss individual process, nor the direction of their collaborative endeavors. There is not even a record of the machines used to create this shadowy sci-fi landscape. What the listener is presented with is music that reverberates like synthetic sound made into organic instruments imitating synthetic sound. It is a fantasy world that feels a little bit too much like a version of reality with dark bags under its eyes and strange stains on its clothing. It's the music you hear after the anesthesia drip gets turned on, right before you succumb to that infernal waking sleep. There's a clarity to the recording, a depth of field that seems normal, but with a bit more scrutiny, is unsettling and disorienting. There's a narrative, almost cinematic or like a soundtrack to an Evanson story, but like any pinnacle of modern horror, once you catch hold of that thread, your brain begs you to let go. The music is devoid of terroir, a fantastic blend of east and west, modern and classical, lending once again to the creeping sensation that the rabbit hole is way up there, far, far from where you've landed. The name translates as 'one to whom secrets are intrusted.' You should believe us on that one. Also, your hair is on fire. And it always has been?" - Jason Meagher. Safiyya is Brad Rose (Charlatan/The North Sea) and Pat Murano (NNCK/Decimus). Silkscreened sleeves and limited as fuck.
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KEL 010LP
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"Jason Meagher( NNCK, Black Dirt Studio) and Pat Murano (NNCK, Decimus) have sporadically been releasing material as K-Salvatore since 1995. The sparse and disturbing electronics captured on this LP, their first since 2006, reflect the dark and cold of the winter's night on which they were created. Edition of 300 in jackets silk screened."
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KEL 009LP
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"It's a mournful processional as guitar notes and gentle echo match the timbre of weeping voices. This is cast-your-body-on-the-casket shades of slobbery meditation, though the Eastern influence finds Raajmahal resembling the overcrowded Ganges rather than a stuff funeral plot. You'll bathe in it alongside floating bodies, as they wade in centuries of bones, flesh and sacrifice. I want to turn to ash with Raajmahal guiding me to eternal light. -- Justin Spicer, Tiny Mix Tapes. Edition of 300 in jackets silk screened by Phil Franklin and Christine Shields at Bright Spot Ink. Raajmahal is Carla Baker (Baba Yaga, Flower Orgy), Pat Murano (NNCK, Decimus) and Santa Wolanczyk (Flower Orgy).
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KEL 004LP
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"Oh bitter Heshvan!
Destroyer of the Kingdom of Solomon.
Noun hath brought downfall to your doorstep.
Metatron be your guide.
There is light in this darkness."
Dedicated to Rabbi Hiya. Dark psychedelia formulated by Pat Murano (No Neck Blues Band, Malkuth, K-Salvatore & Key of Shame) designed to alternately disorient and elate by synthetic means. Fifth in a series of 12 LPs dedicated to the zodiac of Decimus Magnus Ausonious." Limited edition of 300 with hand painted jackets.
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